


Put Away Childish Things

by ZaliaChimera



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Age Difference, Anger, Anthropomorphism - Freefom, Dubious Consent, Hand Jobs, Historical, Immortals, Jealousy, Kink Meme, M/M, Underage Character, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-17
Updated: 2011-01-17
Packaged: 2017-10-14 20:18:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/153066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZaliaChimera/pseuds/ZaliaChimera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spain has everything that Holland wants; freedom, power, and the adulthood that Holland lacks despite his countless years of life. He hates being seen as a child just because of his body's form.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Put Away Childish Things

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Put Away Childish Things  
> Fandom: Hetalia  
> Author: Zalia Chimera  
> Rating: NC-17  
> Pairing: Spain/Holland  
> Warnings: Dub-con, sex, underage (sort of - Holland looks about 12, but is several centuries old.)  
> Notes: Kink meme de-anon.

Spain's suite of rooms was dark when Holland arrived, and the young nation grumbled softly to himself as he struggled to balance a wine jug beneath his arm while lighting one of the lamps with his candle. The lamp finally caught, casting enough light to see by, although it made the shadows flicker eerily across the walls. He padded over to the table, intending to just leave the wine there and damn whatever Spain might say in the morning.

He set it down and turned to leave, but a familiar voice drifted out from the bedchamber, stopping him in his tracks. "Holland? That you?"

Holland scowled darkly. Figured that Spain wouldn't actually be asleep.

"Yes sir," he called back, hoisting the jug and candle once more and heading into the bedroom. With the light from the candle, he could just made out the flash of Spain's eyes within the room, and then the lines of Spain's nude body as he drew closer to the bed. Holland could easily see how toned and powerful he was when he wasn't swathed in the accoutrements of Empire. His sweat-slick skin glistened in the flickering light, and when he sat up, the sheets slid down over his hips, revealing his cock, soft and heavy between his legs, nestled in a thatch of dark hair.

Spain wasn't alone. There was a woman curled next to him, one slim arm thrown carelessly over the older nation's waist.

Spain's eyes were heavy lidded and there was a long clay pipe in his mouth which he set down as Holland approached. It emitted a sweet cloying smoke. He smiled, all white teeth and empty promises, when Holland offered him the wine. "Pour it," he ordered quietly.

Holland's scowl deepened, but he leaned over, having to press close to Spain to pour the wine, able to feel Spain's warmth against his body unpleasantly. He sneaked a look at the woman in bed with Spain as he did; she had long dark hair and full breasts, the sheet pulled down to expose the curve of her hips. Oh, it made his mouth water.

He started when fingers closed around his wrist tightly, drawing him back, and the movement spilled wine over the brim of the cup, over his fingers and down his arm. Spain smirked and raised Holland's fingers to his lips, drawing one into his mouth and delicately licking the wine away.

A hot flush of anger spread across Holland's face and he tried to tear his hand away, but Spain's fingers just tightened, the Empire that much stronger than he was. "Ah, my Holland," he said smoothly, "you enjoy the sight, hm?"

Holland swallowed thickly, and have a short, sharp nod, glancing over at the woman once more. There were bruises on her wrists, he could see now, and he could imagine Spain's hands sliding around them, holding her down as they... He looked away sharply.

Spain chuckled warmly, his thumb rubbing over the inside of Holland's wrist. "I've seen you, you know? With the servant girls and the women in the market. You like to look at them. You'd _like_ to do more, but ah, they all see you as a child don't they? A little boy."

Holland's free hand bunched into a fist at his side, expression taut and angry because it was _true_ damn it. He was old, _centuries_ old, old enough to know what went on in the bedroom, to want it, but stuck in the body of a child looking no more than twelve or thirteen, androgynous and nearly hairless.

"Such an angry face!" A sudden tug left him off-balance, enough for Spain to pull him back so that he was sat on Spain's lap, back to the older nation's chest, and it made him sick with envy because he could feel how broad and toned Spain was in comparison to him. He couldn't really be that much younger than Spain!

Spain laughed, lips pressing against Holland's ear, the touch of his breath making Holland shiver, not entirely unpleasantly. " _I_ don't see you as a child, my Holland." Spain nudged up the hem of Holland's rough-spun shirt, his calloused fingers splaying across Holland's flat stomach. It was ticklish, made his muscles clench up beneath the touch even as Holland shifted uncomfortably. "No, I know how old you are," Spain continued, voice practically a purr. "I know you're old enough for adult things."

Holland squirmed, but Spain's arm tightened around him, holding him fast. His free hand pulled Holland's shirt down, exposing one shoulder and he pressed his lips to it. Holland could feel the flick of his tongue. His shoulders hunched up, body tense all over, but Spain just took the opportunity to explore the flex of his muscles, tongue sliding down over his shoulder-blade.

"Stop it," Holland hissed, trying to struggle away.

Spain bit down hard on his shoulder; he was sure that he could feel blood welling up beneath Spain's teeth, and Holland cried out only for a large hand to close over his mouth, stifling the noise. "Now now, don't want to wake her, do we? She'd send you away, say that _children_ can't be involved."

Even though Holland knew that he was being manipulated, it still made him growl in frustration. He wasn't a child, he was a Nation, older than they could imagine and they still treated him like this!

Spain hummed softly, the hand against his stomach sliding further up, against his breastbone to stroke one of his nipples lightly. It made him shiver.

Spain's breath was hot against the back of his neck as the touching continued, his fingers stroking Holland's nipples until they became hard, then gave one of them a sharp pinch dragging a guttural noise from Holland's mouth. Spain chuckled. "Like that, do you?" he asked, pulling Holland back roughly when he tried to get away again.

Spain grabbed for the glass of wine with his free hand, taking a long draught before setting the cup aside once more. His fingers slid up beneath Holland's chin, forcing his head around, gripping his chin hard when Holland refused to make it easy. Spain's eyes were dark with lust and whatever it was that he had been smoking. When Spain kissed him, Holland kept his lips tight shut, prepared to take a slap for it, but Spain just looked amused. "So stubborn. Maybe you are a child after all," Spain said, and the hint of scorn in his voice was enough to make Holland snarl and part his lips, kissing back roughly and clumsily, trying to force his tongue into Spain's mouth, a childish parody of what he'd seen the human adults do.

Spain seemed pleased by the sudden reciprocation and his tongue ran along Holland's lips, the ridges of his teeth, the complete skilled opposite of Holland's clumsy attempts. Holland knew that he was being played, goaded into doing exactly what Spain wanted, but the jab had stung enough that he didn't care.

Spain's hand moved lower, down beneath the wait of Holland's breeches, and Holland jerked away from the kiss, a strangled noise escaping him as Spain's large hand wrapped around his flaccid penis. Spain pressed their lips together again, hard, swallowing down Holland's cry.

"Do you touch yourself, Holland?" Spain purred against his lips, cupping Holland's dick, feeling its weight in his hand and _damn it_ , Holland could feel the shameful flush of arousal beginning there, body quickening beneath Spain's skilled touch. "Do you touch yourself like this?" Spain asked again, a slight hitch to his voice as he squeezed and stroked, drawing Holland to full hardness. "In your room at night, on your own, imagining everything that's closed off to you, thinking of the curves of a woman's body."

Spain's thumb slid over the tip of his cock and then... stopped. Holland looked around wildly, wide eyes and a dark flush on his cheeks. Spain's smile slipped into a smirk and he ran his thumb down Holland's sharp cheekbone in a touch that might have been tender if Holland couldn't sense the mocking intention behind it. "Well, do you, my Holland?"

Holland tried to buck his hips up against Spain's hand, because Spain had started this and he was damn well going to finish it!, but Spain moved quickly, holding him back, keeping him from gaining any relief. Finally, the young nation hung his head and growled through gritted teeth, "Yes." The shameful admission made Spain crow in satisfaction, nuzzling the back of Holland's neck with exaggerated affection as though Holland had just declared undying love for him. Who knew what went on in Spain's head anyway?

He did however, touch Holland's cock again, and that was what was at the forefront of Holland's mind right then. "Ngh..." The strangled noise escaped him before he could clamp his lips shut to throttle it.

Spain cooed. "Ah, you make such pretty sounds like this! I think I'd like to hear you when you can make as much noise as you want, with only me to hear."

Holland's breath caught in his throat, ice replacing his blood for a moment at the promise and hot desire in Spain's voice. He could do it, Holland knew. No room was barred from the master of the house and Holland was Habsburg property. "I'm not Romano, you sick..." The words were cut off by another squeeze to his sensitive cock, making him arch and squirm and he could feel Spain's dick, half hard, against the small of his back.

Holland bared his teeth at the single example of an exploitable weakness, looking over his shoulder at the other nation. "Can't get it up, bastard? Like a worn out empire?"

That was perhaps one step too far. Spain dragged him round and backhanded him roughly, although his smile never faltered, still jovial and warm. It turned Holland's head, left a sharp stinging mark against his cheek and he tasted blood in his mouth where his tooth had caught the inside of his cheek.

"I was wrong," Spain hissed, "you're not cute at all." There was a darkness in Spain's eyes that made goosebumps rise all across Holland's skin. The woman stirred, but rolled over without waking, apparently oblivious to what was going on. Holland wondered madly whether she'd been sharing Spain's pipe and it had left her insensible.

He expected Spain to let him go, but his grip just tightened, pulling Holland up against him, rubbing his hips against Holland's until the friction of rough cloth against his cock made Holland cry out. He swallowed it down with a nipping biting kiss which made the blood-taste worse.

And he was still hard, hated it, _wanted_ it, and he could take it, he could and one day he'd prove that to Spain, that he would be just as big and powerful and _better_ than him.

Spain grabbed Holland's wrist, hard enough that he could feel the bones grinding together, and pulled it lower until Holland's fingers brushed the tip of Spain's cock, now slick with pre-come, and hard, even that small violence a powerful aphrodisiac for the empire. He kept tight hold as he forced Holland's fingers around the length, forcing him to stroke Spain, the thick flesh hard and hot. Spain rocked up against him, keeping Holland's strokes firm and steady. "Much better," he groaned, kissing the junction of Holland's shoulder and neck, biting down and leaving marks which wouldn't fade quickly. "Little Holland, just like that..."

Holland growled at the comment and leaned in to bite down hard on Spain's shoulder, tasting sweat and skin, determined that Spain would remember this. It was a heady feeling, having Spain shudder beneath him like that, even when his cock was given a painful squeeze which sent a flash of pain through him. Spain smirked, a cruel expression, and leaning close, even as his grip gentled. "I will always have the bigger claws, my Holland."

His thumb slid over the head of Holland's cock, rough strokes dragging Holland close to the edge, his young body so sensitive and his stamina so poor. Heat coiled in his belly and Spain didn't seem any closer, was calm and cool and Holland _hated_ him for that and for every little wrong Spain had done to him.

He tensed all over, the heat blooming fast and hot as he came, his shriek muffled once more by Spain's hand, holding him tight as he spilled over Spain's hand. And Spain was gentle as he let him ride it out, the pleasure flashing inside his skull and in his groin, and he hated him for that even more.

He found himself leaning up against Spain's warm chest, curled against him like a child, and he quickly pulled away as though burned. He was sticky down there. It was disgusting. When he moved, his cock brushed against Spain's body, sensitive enough to hurt.

Spain was still hard.

He looked up at Spain's face, wishing that he couldn't feel the heat in his cheeks, his scowl darker than ever as he stumbled to his feet and away from Spain.

Spain laughed, reaching out to pat him condescendingly on the top of his head, mussing his hair. "Such a cute little boy, my Holland. Isn't it time for you to be in bed?"

Holland's eyes widened at the words, and he could only stare in impotent and confused rage as Spain turned away, back to his bedmate. He moved to straddle her, rousing her from her slumber and paying Holland no more mind as he began to cup her breasts, his cock rubbing against her flat stomach.

Some emotion he couldn't quite put a proper name to flooded through him, like jealousy except he wasn't _jealous_ , not of Spain because he'd be powerful too one day, and certainly not of the _woman_ who Spain was touching now, one hand slid between her legs.

The thought made him sick.

He snatched his little candle and hurried from the room, the conversation following him, obscenely loud in his ears.

"Who was that, Antonio?"

"Mmm? Oh him. Just a serving boy. No need to concern yourself over a child."


End file.
